the sky, the earth, and everything inbetween
by ChocoBunnyDrops
Summary: The thing that unites them is not blood, or wealth, or love, but one Sawada Tsunayoshi. A collection of oneshots with a variety of genres and characters, from drabbles to character studies. Written for KHR Week 2016. Day 1: Takeshi. Day 2: 275980 (brotp). Day 3: Elena Day 4: Bianchi. Day 5: 1833
1. the stars twinkle, and you walk away(80)

As soon as he's able to walk more than three steps without tripping, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi takes his son outside and teaches him how to hold a bat.

It becomes a tradition of theirs, like kisses before school and hot chocolate on Christmas. Every day after finishing his homework, Takeshi races his dad to the park (and wins about one-third of the time) so they can practice baseball in the light of the setting sun. Tsuyoshi, a former high school player who gave up on going pro to run the family business, gently corrects Takeshi's grip and stance until he looks like a mirror of himself in his youth, shoulders squared, base stable, bat firmly gripped in his hands.

By the time they get home, the moon is far above the horizon and the stars twinkle with every step. Safe on his father's back, Takeshi recounts all his favorite parts of the day while Tsuyoshi chuckles and holds his legs tighter.

-

The day Takeshi's mother dies, part of Tsuyoshi dies with her. Takeshi remembers his father hunched over his desk, shoulders shaking, as he pens her obituary. _Yamamoto Aoi, loving sister, wife, and mother. You will always be missed._

The bedtime stories stop. Tsuyoshi, determined to be strong for his only child, throws himself into his work. Takeshi practices baseball alone and joins his elementary school team.

For awhile, everything's okay. It's not perfect, it never will be now that Okaa-san is gone, but they make it work.

It's not until middle school that Takeshi realizes he's head and shoulders above the rest, that his hard work combined with natural athleticism has created an unstoppable pitcher. Baseball magazines praise him as the next big thing, and already scouts are buzzing around him when he makes the starting roster as a first year.

He comes home that night with his team jacket draped over his shoulders and his new jersey still in its plastic packaging. He drops it in front of his shell-shocked father and says, "I didn't want to open it without you."

It's the first time he's seen him truly smile since her death.

But he's not a carefree little kid anymore, and he can feel how much his team is counting on him to always do his best, to always be _the_ best. Practice is brutal. It's unlike anything he's ever done before, and it makes him feel like all the work he put in earlier is useless when he leaves with burning muscles and blue-black bruises.

It only gets tougher when he's a second-year. Baseball feels like the only thing in his life, and he can't remember the last time he came home and didn't immediately flop into bed, too exhausted to even change out of his uniform. He's grown 5 centimeters in the past season alone, and the underclassmen look up at him with adoring eyes. Murmurs follow him wherever he goes, and overnight he becomes the jock heartthrob of the school. It almost makes up for his slipping grades and perpetual migraine. Coach pats him on the back and tells him he'll get used to it, his hard work is paying off, you'll see. He becomes the ace, but he's never felt worse.

In his third year, he meets Tsuna.

-

When he's sixteen and four months, he's offered captainship of the baseball team, virtually unheard of for anyone not a third year. But the coach claps him on the shoulder and tells him he's got real potential, that the whole team looks up to him and they'd be honored if he'd be their leader.

Takeshi smiles, then turns him down. "Sorry, but I don't have the time," he tells the coach, then the rest of the team before practice. "You deserve someone who can give everything they have to baseball."

They're confused, but respect his decision. The coach stops him after practice and tells him the offer's always on the table, but deep down Takeshi knows he'll never take it. He walks home slower than usual that night, hands stuffed in his pockets instead of behind his head, and is acutely aware of the weight of his sword on his back. Ever since the fight against Bermuda, he'd never left home without it.

He passes by the park his father and him used to practice in, before his mother died and he relocated to a different one, because every time he came here the lump in his throat was too painful to bear. He stops now, and takes in the faded playground equipment, glowing dully in the moonlight, as old and familiar as the nights he used to spend here.

The wind ruffles his hair and teases the edges of his jacket. In the distance, he can hear a child wailing about their lost toy and the gentle reassurance of their father that they'd buy a new one. He thinks about his own dad, waiting for him to come home and help close up shop, and his friends, getting ready for bed and anticipating his usual goodnight text.

Something bumps into his shoe, and he realizes it's a baseball. He stoops to pick it up, and examines the red cross-stitching. It fits perfectly in his hand, as if his fingers were created specifically to cradle the round white orb. Now they were calloused, from baseball and sword-training alike, but the ball feels perfectly smooth. Briefly, he considers taking it home, before he shakes his head and places it back on the ground. It wasn't his, and someone else would be looking for it.

The stars twinkle with every step, and his chest is lighter than it's been in days. He wants to run home even though he has absolutely no reason to, so he does. His father glances at him in confusion when he suddenly bursts in, before shaking his head and turning away. Takeshi laughs and helps him wipe down the counter.

He's walking away from the life he always thought he wanted to have, but he's never felt better.

A/N: Tfw you post this less than an hour before day one ends.

In case you were wondering, I chose Aoi for Yams' mom's name bc it means blue. I thought it'd be cute if blue was always his favorite color because of his mom, and then it turned out to be his flame color too.

Hmu at chocobunnydrops on tumblr ! Thank you for reading !


	2. safe (27,59,80)

**KHR Week Day Two, Option B: Favorite Trio** \- _27,59,80._

 **A/N:** I watched this arc of KHR approximately 3 years ago, so I apologize if there are any inconsistencies with what was revealed to have happened in canon. That being said, the majority of this is headcanon.

Takeshi can't remember the last time all seven of them were together.

Even before the attack on Vongola HQ, Tsuna can sense the storm brewing. Underlings so low on the hierarchical ladder they've never even met Tsuna start vanishing without a trace. New recruits come younger, more desperate. Once-friendly famiglias cut ties overnight.

Reborn is concerned, but Tsuna even more so. It feels like they're being singled out, isolated from the rest of the Underground, while simultaneously gaining more members than they've ever had. Members that Tsuna has sworn to protect as boss of the famiglia.

Black clouds ring the sky the day Tsuna calls his Guardians into his office and tells them to start preparing. "I don't know what's going on," he admits, though the grim set of his mouth says otherwise, "but something's changed, and I want to be ready."

His Guardians are scattered across the world like puzzle pieces on a child's floor. Communication is minimal, to reduce the chance of being tracked, and Takeshi's lucky to know even the country they're in before they're whisked onto another mission to secure a base, eliminate an enemy, keep each other _safe_.

With each mission more information flows into Vongola HQ, and the missing pieces come together. Gesso Byakuran. The Millefiore famiglia. Rings and boxes and a cruelty the likes of which the Mafia has never seen. It's terrifying. Blackmailing famiglias to denounce the Vongola, a series of high-profile assassinations, picking off underlings ten at a time because they wouldn't be missed-Byakuran was the string that connected the points.

Takeshi feels sick to his stomach.

But he's the proud Rain Guardian of Vongola Decimo, and he works doggedly to carry out his duties. It's no longer just Tsuna who's depending on him, it's the entire famiglia, and maybe even the Mafia world at large. He can't afford to be scared. He has to put everything he has into keeping them safe.

He's too late to save his dad.

If he had known that walking into Byakuran's trap had been Tsuna's plan all along, if he had known that his best friend was going to bet his life on a group of kids to save the future, he would have...he would have...he doesn't even know what he would have done. Tried to talk Tsuna out of it? Tied him to a chair so he literally couldn't do it?

At the very least, beg _aren't we friends? Why didn't you tell me?_

In the end, it doesn't matter what he would've done, because Tsuna's gone. Forever. And yet, he can't keep replaying the I Should Haves over and over in his head. I should have paid more attention. I should have realized Tsuna would do something like this. I should have been better.

Weeks later, all he can see in his mind's eye, clear as day, is Tsuna's apologetic smile and the soft "You would never let me."

Fifteen year old Gokudera grabs him by the collar and punches him square in the jaw, hard enough that he feels the bone crack and a trickle of blood escape his lower lip. This close, he can see how badly Gokudera's hands are trembling, feel the hoarse vibrations of his chest as he yells "Where were you? How could you let this happen?"

Takeshi lets him have his way with him, because he knows they both need it. Gokudera needs to get out the raw agony of their Tsuna being gone, and he needs to repent for the things he never did. It seems no matter the years that separated them, they'd always need each other, and they'd always need Tsuna. Whether twenty five or fifteen, Gokudera would give his life for Tsuna in a heartbeat. They both would.

And yet here they were, very much alive, forced to exist with the echo of _"How could you let this happen?"_ and a black coffin.

Reborn steps in a few seconds later. Gokudera backs off, and Takeshi can see his anger redirecting at himself. For the rest of the night, he catches Gokudera blanking out when he thinks no one is paying attention, rubbing his storm ring between his fingers before clenching his fist so hard the knuckles turn white. Takeshi ghosts his hand over his back in a comforting gesture as they walk down the hall together, and he doesn't need to watch the wrinkles between his eyes smooth out to know Gokudera understands.

 **A/N:** the struggle of figuring out how to label this (27/59/80 vs. 27+59+80 vs. 275980) bc I didn't want it to look like an ot3 (nothing against it, I just wanted to focus on friendship this time).

Thanks for reading! I'm chocobunnydrops on tumblr!


	3. Elena

**KHR Week Day Three, Option A: Favorite Famiglia** \- _Vongola Primo_

Elena is as radiant as the roses of June, with a smile like sunshine and a sweet, tinkling laugh. She worms her way into the Vongola with ease, after Giotto rescues her when she's kidnapped by an enemy of her father. Such threats are commonplace when you're the daughter of a duke, and she's delighted to hear about the formation of a vigilante group to protect the people.

Giotto is enchanted by her, and she by him, though she's quick to remind him that Daemon's the only man in her heart when his chivalry could be interpreted as coquetry (not that Giotto would ever flirt with her; for as long as he can remember, there's only been one person who he dared think he was in love with.)

That person scowls when Giotto brings Elena to the rundown shack that serves as the Vongola base, Daemon close behind because he's reluctant to leave her alone after the kidnapping. G positively glowers when a second new face passes through the door; "Really, Giotto, another one? Where do you keep finding these people?"

Giotto just smiles. "I run into them, G, like I always do." As if one runs into a Japanese musician, a former spy, and a priest on the street everyday.

G huffs and returns to his work. "You can't adopt every stray you meet, Giotto. There's barely enough room here for the two of us."

Elena, however, proves to be a useful contact. Using her father's influence, she secures them a cozy little house on the outskirts of the city to be their new headquarters. Giotto protests that this is too much, they can't possibly accept, but Elena insists it's the least she can do since they saved her and all.

"At least let us pay you back," Giotto makes one final effort, "When we're more established and have the funds."

Elena tuts scoldingly and taps him on the nose. "Nope. It's my gift to you. Now come on, caro, dinner won't make itself and the market closes at 5."

-  
G quickly learns to watch what he says when Elena's around. One offhanded comment about how he could use another fighter for a mission, and Elena is brightly declaring that Daemon will go with him.

"What?" Both he and the illusionist sputter, and it's the first time they both agree on something.

Elena nods confidently, eyes sparkling. "It'll be perfect. With all the time we spend here, we might as well contribute, and I'm sure Giotto would be happy to hear you two are getting along."

She places a gentle hand on Daemon, and it's obvious how he melts under her touch. His shoulders relax, his eyes lose their hardness, and G thinks that may even be a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"For you, Elena, anything. Pinky, let's go."

G groans at the nickname, but follows him out. It's true that Giotto would be ecstatic when he heard they were finally fixing their "rocky" relationship, and the job truly would be a lot easier with another pair of eyes. He just wishes they weren't Daemon Spade's eyes.

"Ahhh, I can't stand kids." Lampo moans.

"Tch. Figures, because you act just like one." G rolls his eyes.

Elena introduces them to Lampo, her childhood friend, and the first thing he asks is why a noble like her is associating with a bunch of ragtag hooligans.

Elena politely corrects him that they're a vigilante group, they protect the people, but the damage is done. Alaude is already heading for the exit (though it was a miracle in itself just to get him to come), and G hasn't looked that murderous since the time Knuckles nearly blew up the kitchen.

Lampo lounges comfortably on his bed, seemingly uncaring of the impression he was making. He selects a pastry from the array on his nightstand and carelessly pops it into his mouth. "What are you doing here anyways? Go away. You're wasting my time."

"Lampo," Giotto approaches him from where he had been observing the whole affair, "My name is Giotto, and I'm the leader of the Vongola. We came here to talk to you."

The thing about Giotto is, he's the kind of person you meet once and never forget. He's got enough ideas to hang each one from a star and still have some left over, and so much hope in his voice it hurts. He sees what the world could be, and he makes you see it too. But he's not naive, and he's certainly not weak.

He's also not someone you can say no to.

Barely ten minutes later, Lampo sighs and says, "Fine. I'll join you. But don't expect me to do that much work." Giotto smiles, then invites him to visit headquarters the following week. "We're glad to have you," he tells him, before bidding him a polite farewell and sweeping out the door.

As his followers trail behind the blond, Lampo can see the resolute set of their shoulders, the pride in each step. Immediately, he knows these men would follow Giotto through fire and flood alike, and he has a feeling that someday, he would too.

Elena lingers for a moment, pausing in the doorway between her old life and her new one. She, too, holds a charm all her own, which is how she got Lampo to agree to this meeting in the first place. Now she bites her lip, eyes anxious, before steeling herself and turning to the young Duke.

"Thank you," she says, and her eyes are warm. Lampo makes a dismissive gesture. "You know I can't say no to you." No one could, not when she was a breath of fresh air in a musty castle, or a patch of sunlight after the winter's cruelty. She was an adventure even the most cowardly human wanted to experience, and an infectious laugh ringing across the room. Lampo doesn't know how Vongola Primo was lucky enough to win her loyalty.

Elena giggles, then steps out the door. A week later, Lampo follows her.

A/N: With each day i finish these fics closer and closer to midnight lmao

Find me at chocobunnydrops on tumblr!

Thanks for reading!

~Tressa


	4. Good Things Come in Threes (Bianchi)

**KHR Week Day 4, Option B: Character Who Grew On You** \- _Bianchi_

Three little-known facts about Bianchi:

1\. At the age of 5, her poison cooking burned through the plastic pots and pans of her toy kitchenette.

2\. She plays piano. She always has.

3\. She's really fucking good at hide-and-seek.

Her pots and pans are made of plastic, and her only heat source is an Easy Bake Oven, but Bianchi's still the happiest five-year-old anyone's ever seen. The Deluxe Masterchef Junior Kitchenette is the best Christmas present she's ever received, and she immediately sets to work cooking up a masterpiece.

Of course, the brightly colored plastic food the toy kitchenette comes with don't satisfy her high standards, so she swipes some real food from the kitchen and works with that instead. Every day is a new vegetable to try, a new combination of cooking techniques to learn, and the servants have to admit she has the makings of a chef.

No one's really sure how she manages to make Poison Cooking.

It just happens one day, and the rest, as they say, is history. Literally, because with a handful of garbage scraps and a whisk she dissolves the entire kitchenette into an unappealing glob of melted plastic, colors blending into one another until they become a nauseating shade of brown.

The metal pans don't last much longer.

-

The day after Hayato runs away, Bianchi breaks into her father's study and steals the key to the Room.

Stuffed into the pocket of her dress, the cast iron ornament feels heavy and important, though the beginnings of rust reveal it has long since passed its prime. Its counterpart lock is equally decrepit, since her father had forbidden anyone from entering this wing of the house after Lavina's death. Maids avoided the hallway when they could, whispering stories of vengeful ghosts and an eerie piano that would only play dirges, cursing all who heard the dance of its keys to eternal damnation.

Bianchi is one of the few to know the Room's true story, as a second home to Lavina and her beloved music. She had noticed her father always disappeared on Wednesday afternoons, and one day, she couldn't help but secretly follow him. He had acted like a madman, peeking into hallways to make sure nobody was there, going through the library, the cellar, and the servant's staircase when there was a path straight through the foyer. He had walked in circles for what seemed like hours (in actuality it was around 15 minutes) before reaching a part of the house she had never been in, hadn't even known existed.

She runs a finger over the edge of the piano. Sure enough, there's a decade's worth of dust on her hand. She wipes it on her dress and sits down. The cover creaks wearily when she opens it, like it had become accustomed to the dimensions of rest and didn't take kindly to a new mistress. Nevertheless, she adjusts the seat and begins to play.

The keys are out of tune and yellowed, but the melody she coaxes from them is lovely and pure. Of course she plays piano; she always has. She was just never a prodigy like her brother, and so she left the recitals and compositions to him.

She still played every now and again, in the opulent parlor where her mother liked to entertain their guests. The Steinway proudly occupying the center of the room is ebony black and an antique, a gift from one of her father's most powerful allies. It's the piano that's as grand and elegant as you would expect from a mafia famiglia. It's the piano that little girls who are going to grow up to be princesses and married off to form political alliances play on.

It's not the piano Hayato's mother was allowed to play on.

Without realizing it, Bianchi switches to her favorite piece, the first one she taught her only son to play. Alone in a room full of dust, shimmering with memories she was never a part of, the piece feels melancholy. Raw. A tragedy that should only be found in the safety of literature.

And in that tragedy, Bianchi would be the villain.

-

"Ready or not, here I come!"

I-pin's high voice rings through the house, the light pitter-patter of footsteps accompanying her meticulous search of the premises.

"My my I-pin-chan, you're good at this aren't you?" She hears Nana chuckle a few minutes later. "Lambo-chan usually takes twice as long to find me."

Bianchi misses I-pin's response because she wedges herself further into the back corner of the pantry, behind a sack of white rice and a collection of snack chips. The dust tickles her nose and irritates her eyes, but she resists the urge to dab at it and risk making noise. You never knew who might be listening. She learned that the hard way during her missions.

With Nana's help, I-pin quickly uncovers Lambo (also in the pantry, trying to reach the grape candies on the top shelf), Fuuta (behind the curtains), and Tsuna (under his bed). The latter two accept defeat good-naturedly and come downstairs for a snack, while Lambo won't stop declaring that I-pin cheated and that's the only reason she found him, like he hadn't left the door wide open and his tail hanging in plain sight.

Now Bianchi's the only one still in the game, since Reborn revealed himself to kick Tsuna in the head for picking such an obvious hiding spot. He insists that they continue searching for Bianchi after a quick break, saying it's the least Tsuna can do to redeem himself after such a pathetic performance. Tsuna groans, but agrees. Lambo and I-pin are already tugging at his pants, and he lets them lead him upstairs to look for her. Nana sends them off with a cheerful "Good luck!" before heading to the kitchen.

Nana opens the door multiple times while she prepares dinner, but she never spots the shadowy figure of Bianchi curled behind the rice, or the gleaming green eyes watching her every movement. She probably assumes that Bianchi can't be in there, since they would've seen her when they found Lambo, and everyone always underestimates how small Bianchi can make herself be.

When you grow up in a mansion where children should be seen and not heard, you get good at ducking into corners and crevices. Nooks and crannies are the most fun places to be, after all, out of the strict eyes of a slew of governesses and servants. For as long as she can remember, Bianchi's been good at finding those safe havens. Unnaturally good, sniffed her mother, who rather preferred her only daughter sitting pretty on a chair while the adults discussed "grown-up things".

Bianchi wasn't made to be a porcelain doll.

She was made of fire and steel, forged in an inferno that carved scars into her skin like paint on a canvas. Her wings were untimely ripped from her back, but she found out she didn't need wings to fly.

And she's not sure Heaven's her style, anyways.

(She stayed in the pantry for another two hours before Tsuna and the kids finally gave up.)

 **A/N:** okay so I was originally pretty neutral to Bianchi, but then came the future arc AND SHE WAS SUCH A GOOD BIG SISTER TO THE GIRLS AND I WAS LIKE ! so that is the story behind this fic

hmu at .com

Thanks for reading!

~Tressa


	5. celebration (hibari and ryohei)

Hibari owes Ryohei a favor after not having to take the Inheritance test he finally agreed to do. Ryohei decides he wants to celebrate, just the two of them and a bag of snacks.

 **KHR Week Day Four, Option B: Favorite Battle/Arc** \- _The Inheritance Arc_

Ryohei considers himself a patient man (his friends tell him the opposite but that's not the point), and right now, Hibari is really testing his patience.

He pounds his fist on the door again, belting "Oi, Hibari! Open up already!" and not knowing if the Cloud could really be this deaf, or if he's just ignoring him like usual.

The door is yanked open so fast it's only his quick reflexes that prevent Hibari from getting punched in the face, and judging by his murderous glare, that wouldn't do anything to improve the situation.

"You're making a disturbance," Hibari hisses, a lock of jet black hair falling into his eyes. Ryohei doesn't have time to appreciate how well it contrasts against his pale skin, or the loose black kimono that dips low on his chest, because he quickly lunges forward. "I'm going to bite you to death."

Again, it's Ryohei's quick reflexes that save him from being nailed by a tonfa, the weapon cutting a deadly arc through the air. "Oi, calm down!" He shouts, once he's out of tonfa-range. "You live in the middle of nowhere! No one's being disturbed!"

"You're annoying." Hibari narrows his eyes, raising his tonfas once more. "That is reason enough."

"Hey! I didn't come here to fight!" Ryohei yells, as he dodges attack after attack. "Enough, Hibari! Do you know how long it took me to find out where you live? I just want to talk!" For the first time, he holds up the plastic bag of snacks he brought to share with the Cloud. Miraculously, it hadn't been ripped open during the scuffle.

The mention of his house stops Hibari in his tracks. Evidently, he had never considered how Ryohei knew where to find him on the rare occasions he wasn't at Nami Chuu. He had taken great pains to ensure only the most elite members of the Disciplinary Committee knew his personal information (he had a grand total of 5 contacts in his phone), and surely he would have noticed such a loudmouth following him home.

Encouraged by his lack of trying to murder him, Ryohei takes a step closer. "I just wanted to celebrate getting the Inheritance. Just the two of us, since you're always going on about how you hate crowding. Besides, you still owe me a favor, right? You didn't have to take an Inheritance test, so the least you can do is celebrate with me." He sticks his hand into the bag and rummages around for a second, before pulling out a container of mochi. "See? I even brought traditional stuff because Reborn said you didn't seem like an orange soda and chips kind of guy."

Of all the people Hibari expected to render him speechless, Sasagawa Ryohei is dead last on his list. His coming alone because he knew Hibari disliked crowding, and bringing traditional treats just to accommodate his palate were surprisingly thoughtful gestures. And he had a point; Hibari is still technically in his debt, and how he hates leaving debts unpaid. He turns on his heel in a swoosh of black fabric, stalking back into the house. "Do as you like."

Ryohei whoops in triumph and dashes in behind him. He mutters a quick "Pardon the intrusion" before jumping out of his shoes and making himself at home. While Hibari sedately kneels on a pillow, Ryohei busies himself with dumping the contents of the bag on the table and happily explaining them to Hibari, as if he wasn't perfectly capable of reading the labels himself.

"So I brought three different flavors of chips, plain, sour-cream, and barbecue, which is Yamamoto's favorite so he usually eats them all before I can have more than one or two. This is chocolate pocky, which I used to get Kyoko all the time when she was little..."

Hibari tunes him out after a few seconds, because he's prattling and he honestly could not care less. Ryohei doesn't seem to notice and goes on and on about his seaweed crackers, until he cocks his head and looks curiously at Hibari.

"Hey, aren't you going to offer me tea or something?"

His answer is brutally honest and straight to the point. "I don't recall inviting you in."

Predictably, Ryohei explodes into a lecture on how he needs to be more polite and his house was so damn far away he couldn't bring any drinks, so the least he could do is get him a glass of water, and _Hibari you bastard are you even listening to me?_

"You're annoying," Hibari yawns, which earns an offended squawk from Ryohei. He's had a long day making sure his imbecile classmates didn't destroy the school, and a nap sounds heavenly right now. "Go away."

"You haven't eaten any of the stuff I got 'specially for you." Ryohei gestures to the untouched collection of mochi.

"The sight of your face makes me lose my appetite."

Ryohei grumbles and stuffs more chips into his mouth.

He finally leaves after Hibari eats a single green mochi, staring at him chew with a rapt attention that would make a lesser man squirm. Hibari swallows, then meets his gaze with a challenging look of his own, as if to say Well?

Slipping his shoes on, Ryohei insists Hibari keeps the rest of the mochi (Hibari makes a mental note to throw them away; they're obviously the convenience store brand and disgusting). He slings his bag over his shoulder, obviously preparing to leave, when he turns over and makes eye contact with him.

"Don't die, Hibari."

As if. "You should be worried about yourself."

Ryohei pumps his fist. "Of course I'll beat them to the extreme!" His eyes shine for a moment, then he lets his arms drop and return to that unusually serious posture. "Seriously though, be careful. Even a guy as tough as you can be defeated if he lets his guard down."

"Defeated? I wouldn't dream of it." Hibari doesn't care how strong their opponents are, or how big of a mess Sawada Tsunayoshi has apparently made the future into. He's going along with this solely to fight the best of the best, and he has no plans on associating with this loudmouth idiot now that his debt has been paid. "Good night."

Ryohei lets the door be shut in his face. He's mulling over the other's words, as well as contemplating if his trip here was worth it. Finally, he shakes his head and starts home. Kyoko would be worried if he came back too late. There's no use thinking about someone like Hibari, someone who insists on doing everything alone. He accomplished what he set out to, and that is enough.

He glances back at the rapidly shrinking house, muttering a quiet "Good night, Hibari," before his door completely disappears into the twilight.

 **A/N:** Their dialogue at the end is a parallel of what they say to each other TYL in ep 100 ! Also I hope I didn't make Hibs sound too bitter, but as I was watching the anime, I noticed that his responses were always very blunt and to the point, so I tried to reflect that.

I'm chocobunnydrops on tumblr !

Thanks for reading~

~Tressa


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